Harry Potter's Secret Heartache
by Goodie2shoe
Summary: In which Harry Potter gains an unnerving new power that allows him to discover his best friends' true feelings as well as his own...
1. An Unexpected Escape

Disclaimer: The Genius is J.K. Rowling's the work is mine.

This is my first fanfic ever. I hope you guys like it. Review even if you don't. I have ideas for more chapters so the title doesn't really make sense right now.

Goodie2Shoe

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On a warm night in August, Privet Drive and the neighboring streets of Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk were all plunged into darkness.

The only visible light was that of the streetlamps, illuminating identical neatly trimmed lawns, identical cars parked in identical drives in front of houses that were all pretty much the same except for the occasional potted plant in a window or white cat door here and there.

The residents of these homes were currently sleeping soundly in their beds.They would not be snoring so soundly, however, if they knew that they were in fact living within a few feet of a real live wizard, who was at this very moment in time, stirring in his bed and twisting himself deeper into the tangle of his soft blue sheets.

Harry found himself once again spending his summer holiday at the home of his imposing and rather beefy Uncle Vernon Dursley, his horse-faced and giraffe-necked Aunt Petunia, and his spoiled and infinitely large cousin Dudley, whose greatest fear was that someone should discover Harry's true identity.

All of the Durselys' acquaintances thought that Harry Potter was a criminal and ignoramus sent to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, but in the wizarding world, Harry Potter was regarded as something of a savior - famous for bringing about the downfall of the most feared wizard of all time: Lord Voldemort.

Harry continued to twist in his bed, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead due to the oppressive heat. Suddenly his eyes flashed open, blinking once or twice before focusing. Harry groped around for his glasses in the dark and switched on his bedside lamp. Light poured out of Harry's small second story window; the conspicuous yellow cutting through the darkness of the surrounding streets and homes.

Harry sat up straight in bed. He was trying to remember the dream he had been having. It was the same one he had been having ever since the night he came face to face with Voldemort – the same night that Harry's godfather, Sirius died.

He had been running down the halls of the Department of Mysteries searching for Sirius, the eerie words of the broken prophecy echoing over and over again in his mind.

But Harry had become used to this dream; he had been having it for several weeks now. What had woken him up was that the dream had somehow changed tonight. In his dream he had been running through the dark hallways of the Department of Mysteries and the next thing he knew he was flying on his broomstick – or so he thought.

He was just becoming accustomed to the new image when he suddenly looked down and saw that he wasn't riding his firebolt at all – (he was suspended completely unsupported 100 yards above the hard, very solid ground.) Harry felt sick at this discovery and it had been his panic at finding himself hanging in midair that had awoken him.

Now that he was awake he didn't think that he could go back to sleep again. The air was stagnant and there was no breeze blowing at all. Harry's sheets were twisted around him so tightly, slightly damp with sweat, that it took him a full minute to extricate himself from them and step out of bed.

Harry walked over to his desk, where Hedwig's cage stood. Tonight Hedwig was sound asleep inside it, even though Harry had left the window open for her to go out. Harry stroked her white head lovingly a few times before noticing the small letter at her feet.

Harry was surprised, since he didn't remember another owl coming to deliver it. It was only upon closer observation that Harry found his best friend, Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, sound asleep in Hedwig's water bowl. Harry laughed to himself as he scratched the small owl's chest, thinking about how surprised Hedwig would be in the morning to find an interloper in her morning drink.

Harry grabbed the letter and sat back down on his bed again. It had been weeks since he received any news from Ron or anyone from the wizarding world for that matter, he had begun to feel isolated once again, cut off from all magical things.

He tore the letter open hungrily. Inside was a small note that was scrawled in Ron's untidy script, Harry thrust it under the lamp and read:

_Harry,_

_Someone is coming to get you. Dumbledore is really worried. Be ready._

_Ron_

Harry, who was still bleary eyed, shook his head to check that he wasn't still dreaming. When his jet black hair had more or less fallen messily back into place, Harry still couldn't believe what he had just read.

_Why are they coming to get me so suddenly? _he thought.

Harry was accustomed to spending part of the summer holidays with his friends, but usually plans like that were made weeks in advance, much to Harry's dismay. Harry couldn't help wondering what could make such a powerful wizard such as Dumbledore so worried.

"When are they coming? He hasn't even bothered to write that!"

Harry mumbled, with a small smile spreading on his lips, as he turned over the small scrap of paper to see if there was anymore writing on the back. There was none and Harry was now sufficiently excited that he stood up once more and began pacing his room, thinking aloud.

Harry realized that he ought to be quieter for fear of waking his aunt and uncle, but he was too preoccupied with Ron's letter and, what it could possibly mean, for him to care.

Harry turned around once more and took a few steps towards the window when he heard a loud crack behind him. He recognized the crack as someone apparating right into his room. He spun around quickly, only to face one of his least favorite people, Severus Snape, sneering at him, a sardonic smile on his lips.

"What are _YOU_ doing here?" Harry asked hotly. He felt very vulnerable standing wandless in front of Snape in his pajamas.

"I thought you would be more grateful to see me, Potter!" Snape sneered.

It was true that at some point during the summer, Harry felt so cut-off from the magical world that even the sight of Snape would have been comforting.

_Apparently not!_ Thought Harry darkly as he glared back at his hook-nosed companion.

"Come along, Potter and get your things together – we are leaving right now." Snape ordered.

Harry hated having to obey Snape but he gathered that things must be pretty bad in order for Dumbledore to send Snape to get him in the middle of the night.

_Ron knew very well that Snape was going to be the "someone" who was coming to get me from the Dursleys! He could have warned me as much in his letter, _Harry thought annoyed.

"Wait! Why do I have to leave right now? What's going on!" Harry shouted, suddenly annoyed that he was just supposed to follow Snape without even having a clue as to where he was going.

"That is none of your concern, Potter, you are not, as you may have previously assumed, important enough to be entitled to know everything." Snape murmured dangerously.

He seemed to be relishing Harry's powerlessness.

"Now, if you would hurry a little and follow me, that is, provided your large head can fit through the door..." Snape continued as Harry stuffed his clothes into his trunk and slammed it shut, pretending that it was Snape he was craming into his trunk, and not his school robes.

As Harry closed Hedwig's cage and thrust it into Snape's arms (an action that was accompanied by a burst of white feathers that settled upon Aunt Petunia's carpet and a loud screech of indignation), he heard Uncle Vernon roar down the hall,

"What the bloody hell is going on in there Potter? Firing guns in the middle of the night?"

Uncle Vernon had obviously mistaken Snape's apparition with the blast of firearms. Harry continued to pack, unconcerned by the loud footsteps that preceded his uncle's large red face barging into his room.

In fact, Harry was almost glad that it had been Snape who came to fetch him from Privet Drive when he saw the effect that Snape's black robes, oily black hair, and black wand, now pointing at the doorway, were having on Uncle Vernon.

A scream was heard as Aunt Petunia joined them and ducked behind her husband, poking her large neck over his shoulders so that she could still see what was going on. Uncle Vernon's face quickly went from red to white at the sight to this ominous looking stranger who just appeared in their house in the dead of night. Dumbstruck, Uncle Vernon stammered,

"M-my m-mistake… m-must be in the w-wrong house, carry on…"

to Snape who looked as menacing as ever. Harry had to suppress a smile as he packed the last of his belongings into his trunk, making sure to remember his firebolt and invisibility cloak, two of his most prized possessions.

As if the scene wasn't comical enough, Snape was glowering at the Dursleys, all three of them now trembling in the doorway (Dudley had dutifully waddled down the hallway as well to see what the commotion was soon after Aunt Petunia) ashe explained to them that he was taking Harry with him.

Harry wasn't surprised, based on the look of sheer terror in the Dursley's eyes, that they made no complaint and allowed Snape and Harry to pass them and walk down the hall. Harry turned around and waved goodbye to the Durselys who were now shivering with fright, pressed against the wall, (a difficult feat considering both Uncle Vernon's and Dudley's immense girth), and then turned to follow Snape's swirling dark robes down the stairs and out of number four Privet Drive into the night.

A/N: Okay, for those of you who want to stop reading now, don't you dare. For those skeptics here is part of one of the next chapters:

"Suddenly Hermione seemed so close, so much closer than ever before…"


	2. A Proper Homecoming

Disclaimer: Do I even have to bother?

Okay, I know the story is off to a slow start, but I have already written other more _interesting_ chapters so be patient please. I know what I am doing…I think!

Goodie2Shoe

Harry stumbled out the door, still amazed that only twenty minutes ago he had been in his room facing an indefinite amount of time at number four Privet Drive and he was now following one of his least favorite people to some unknown destination.

The summer had been a predictably boring one for Harry thus far, even though things seemed to have improved for him in terms of the letters he had received from his friends and the considerable amount of liberties the Dursley's had begrudgingly afforded him. Harry suspected that the memory of Mad Eye Moody's threat was the cause behind the Dursley's indifference as to Harry's actions. Unfortunately, having no new complaints against the Dursley's and suffering no new injustices left Harry with only one thing to contemplate during those long summer hours; his godfather's death and the contents of the broken prophecy.

The heat of the night enveloped the two figures as they walked out of the front door and across the fine trimmed lawn that Uncle Vernon took so much pride in. The two shadows passed by the Dursley's wilting Rhododendrons which, to the extreme anger of their owners, had become stricken with a Rhododendron virus that plagued Surrey and the surrounding countryside that summer. In fact, Aunt Petunia had taken personal offense to her prize winning Rhododendrons falling ill, exclaiming, "leaves drooping as though it were some sort of common houseplant!" in dismay. What the Dursley's, or any other muggle for that matter, didn't know was that this mystery Rhododendron illness originated when the elderly Agatha Criftwing accidentally dumped a cauldron of spoiled potion into her flowerbeds in the beginning of May.

"Lumos" Snape murmured and the tip of his wand shone brightly into the night while he shoved the birdcage holding both Hedwig and Pigwidgeon unceremoniously into Harry's chest. The two owls screeched as Snape took several large strides towards the street and, without offering Harry any help with his trunk, continued up Privet Drive. Harry puffed noisily behind Snape who looked over his shoulder at Harry every once and a while with distaste as though Harry was something especially nasty thathe had just stepped in.

The heat intensified from the exertion of carrying his things and Harry's sweaty hands began to slip from the handles of his trunk so that Harry was just thinking that he wouldn't be able to walk any further when Snape came to a halt outside of the gate of the playground near Magnolia Crescent. Suddenly he began riffling through the hedges that surrounded the fenced playground. Harry had no idea why Snape had taken a sudden interest in pruning a seemingly simple muggle bush located near the entrance to the children's playground.

"What are we doing here Sn—professor?" Harry asked with a genuine sense of bewilderment. As Harry received a "Shut up Potter!" from his companion he thought darkly, _never fingered Snape as a gardener..._ The idea of Snape in overalls and gardening gloves carry a pink watering can and pruning shears was a bit too much for Harry's senses to handle. "Have you lost something Professor?" Harry asked, this time with a feigned innocence and inquisitiveness. The subsequent cough Harry issued started as a chuckle but ended similarly to the cough of one who has accidentally swallowed a small summer fly.

Harry wasn't sure if it was only his imagination or if Snape's nostrils were actually dilating in an effort to sniff out the object he was searching for. After a few minutes Snape rose triumphantly, brushing several leaves off of his robes, holding a Mars Bar wrapper in his hand. _All this was for Snape's chocolate fix.._Snape extended it to Harry who swallowed the laugh that was rebelliously creeping up his throat. The second that his fingertips grazed the silver wrapper he felt a familiar tugging in the pit of his stomach.

Harry realized with a jolt that the seemingly innocuous wrapper was actually a portkey that was currently pulling him and Snape off the sleepy street of Magnolia Crescent and bringing them to a sudden halt on a damp patch of grass on a hillside outside of a small town. Although there were still a few hours before the sun would rise there was no mistaking the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole laying below them. And, the light of the early morning was now sufficient; if Harry squinted, he could even make out the grey smudge east of the huddled houses and cottages of the village that was the Burrow. Suddenly, Harry felt a surge of gratitude go through him for Snape- actually, not quite.

In fact, Harry reminded himself to be angry with everyone for not coming to get him sooner, and for allowing Snape to be the one to show up in Harry's room in the dead of night. But the anger that Harry felt was a mere shadow of the anger he had experienced due to his isolation at Privet Drive, and despite himself, Harry was having one of the best mornings he had had in a really long time.

Harry moved to descend the hill, which he now knew to be Stoatshead, the same hill he had mounted with the Weasleys to attend the Quidditch World Cup, expecting Snape to leave murmuring something nefarious under his breath. In fact it looked as though Snape would like nothing more than to leave Harry here to trek to the Burrow himself. But Snape's arm struck out in front of him, banging hard against his chest as Harry attempted to move forward. Through some miracle, _or great misfortune_, Harry thought darkly, Snape was resolved to bring Harry right up to the Burrow's front step.

"Stay where you are Potter!" he murmured.

"But, Professor, I can make my way to the Weasly's by myself, there's really no…"

Harry was cut off by a large shushing sound and a scowl from his companion who stared at the horizon as though waiting for some signal.

"Silence!" Snape sprayed, continuing to stare out at the horizon. Harry, sighed exasperatingly. He was hot and tired from carrying his trunk and broomstick and Hedwig's cage, not to mention, his having been awake since about three that morning.

"If you don't think that I would rather be somewhere else right now, Potter, instead of at this little "play date" of yours then you are very much mistaken. As much as you like to think we mortals are here to be at your constant beck and call…I would be attending to much more important matters if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's insistence…", Snape continued, throwing Harry a scalding glare. Harry thought he saw some wildflowers nearby wilt, but maybe that had just been his imagination.

Harry continued to fume silently, absorbing the significance of Snape's last jibe that had mentioned Dumbledore. _What had Ron said? Dumbledore is worried…_Harry thought. _I wonder what would worry such a powerful wizard as Dumbledore_…Harry began, but then stopped short remembering the circumstances of his last meeting with Dumbledore and those few moments when he had suddenly appeared so old and almost fragile.

Harry didn't have anymore time to consider the matter, since Snape made a hurried motion for him to stand up and get his things ready, mumbling, "Any time now…" under his breath. Harry followed Snape's narrow eyed stare out onto the horizon where, suddenly, as if by magic, a small rainbow appeared. _It probably is by magic_. Harry reminded himself as Snape motioned, rather roughly, for Harry to move forward. _This must have been the sign Snape was waiting for_, Harry thought, awed by how much planning it must have involved in order to transfer him from Privet Drive to the Burrow.

Finally, as daylight began to streak overStoatshead hill Harry and his rather large-nosed escort descended into the town. They moved quietly in the early morning hours for fear of waking any of the townspeople who would be quite shocked to find a scowling figure in black and a young man with trunk and two owls in tow wandering the narrow grey streets.

Neither Harry nor Snape made any attempt at conversation throughout the journey from Stoatshead hill to the Burrow for which Harry was thankful. It was with a great sense of relief that Harry approached the garden gate of the Burrow, puffing heavily, his fringe plastered to his forehead.

As they entered into the Weasley's yard via the squeaky front gate (which Snape allowed to snap back painfully against Harry's shins) they were greeted by a shriek from the kitchen. Moments later a worried looking Mrs. Weasley ran out of the door enclosing Harry in a giant knitted jumper and floral apron hug and nodding rather resolutely at Snape who continued to sneer.

"Thank God you reached him..." was all she managed to say before Harry allowed her tosteer him into the house, leaving Snape in the garden with nothing but Mrs. Weasley's begonias to glare at.

Despite the early hour, Mrs. Weasly was already busy cooking in the kitchen, and without offering any further information as to his sudden arrival at the Burrow,she used her wand to guide Harry's things up the Burrow's narrow staircases and into his best friend Ron's room, where a few minutes later the famous Harry Potter could be found lying face down on the Chudely Cannons sheets of the top bunk of Ron Weasley's bed, drifting into a wonderful, dreamless, sleep.


	3. Wake Up Calls, Wallops, and Wheezes

Disclaimer: What I choose to do with someone else's characters is none of your business!

Umm…is anybody reading this? Oh well, even if no one does, this is so much fun to write! But I do feel kind of stupid writing these little introductions for myself so I'll just have to pretend! Goodie2Shoe

Harry heard the whispering voices before he awoke.

"Don't, Ron! Mum said not to wake him – he came in the middle of the night."

"Ginny, I don't remember this being any of your business."

Harry could almost hear Ginny's sneer from the top bunk.

"Ginny's right, Ron, leave Harry alone," Hermione's voice suddenly chimed in.

"Oh, typical! Hermione, take Ginny's side for a change why don't you –"

Ron, continued, feigning betrayal.

"We can wake him up for you, Ronnieskins – it's our latest invention, we call it the _Alarm Clock Wallop_. The only problem is…he may be unconscious for a few hours afterwards."

"Yeah, we still haven't finished experimenting with it yet."

It sounded as though Fred and George had just walked in.

Not willing to risk becoming a vict– guinea pig of the said _Alarm Clock Wallop_ Harry stirred in his bed and reached for his glasses on the nightstand.

Predictably, as he peered down from the top bunk of Ron's bed he saw a worried Hermione, sending a disapproving glance at the twins and a silent Ginny, scowling at Ron, who was facing the Weasley twins, perhaps weighing the pros and cons of walloping Harry awake. Ron gave a loud, phony sneeze, grinning guiltily, hoping that it would wake Harry.

"Nice try Ron!" Harry exclaimed, shocking all of his visitors and bringing a smile to everyone's face and a small flush to Ginny's cheeks.

"I told you we were going to wake him…" she trailed off.

"Harry, mate, nice to have you back!" Ron said grinning, despite Hermione's glare.

"Yeah, by the way – thanks for warning me that Snape was coming to Privet Drive! The muggles almost died of shock!" Harry exclaimed.

Harry had a lot of questions he wanted to ask Ron and Hermione about his sudden, although desired, departure from Privet Drive, but he didn't feel like asking them in front of an audience.

Harry sat up and dismounted the top bunk.

"I think they thought Snape would impale them with his wand if they gave him the chance,"

Harry added as the group headed down the creaking stairs, grinning to the sound of Fred and George's guffaws at the thought of the Dursleys cowering beneath the sharp angle of Snape's rather large nose.

It must have been midday because the breakfast things were already cleared away and Mrs. Weasly was setting lunch on the table as they entered the kitchen.

"Ah! Harry, you're awake. Wonderful! There are some people in the living room waiting to talk to you, dear."

Harry exchanged a meaningful glance with the others, silently promising them to tell them all about it later, and headed towards the living room, shouting over his shoulder,

"Ron, you had better save me some of those egg salad sandwiches."

Everyone was sitting down at the scrubbed wooden table and was too busy discussing Harry's arrival, Quidditch, and school to notice the deep furrows on Mrs. Weasley's forehead.

Harry entered the living room to find Professor Lupin and Tonks sitting on the couch waiting for him. Lupin's lips were drawn, and Harry imagined he was steeling himself for something while Tonks looked cheerful despite the somewhat serious atmosphere. Actually, Tonks couldn't have looked anything but cheerful with her daffodil yellow ringlets framing her face.

"Hiya, Harry!" she exclaimed.

"Hello, Harry. How are you?" Lupin asked, looking extremely worried. The semicircles of purple that seemed etched into his cheeks made him look extremely tired and old.

"Fine, thanks," Harry mumbled, sitting down across from the two, falling heavily into one of the Weasley's sagging chairs.

"Harry, we have a lot of other things to do today. It's a busy time for members of the Order, but Dumbledore was extremely worried and he wanted us to make sure that you know why you were brought here so secretively and suddenly."

Lupin paused for a moment and regarded Harry with an appraising look, as if to check if Harry could handle this information so far.

Harry nodded encouragingly, curious to receive the answer to the question. He had previously assumed that such information would be withheld from him. _Like absolutely all the other important information, _he thought.

Apparently Harry seemed stable enough to Lupin because after a few seconds he began to speak again,

"Now that You-Know-Who has returned to the open, he hastaken up some of his old activities. There have been some mysterious deaths, of both wizards and muggles, which the Order is monitoring.

I can't say anything more specific about these events, only that a muggle near Surrey was found dead recently with absolutely no apparent cause. It was in the muggle newspaper – "spontaneous asphyxiation," they classified it."

Suddenly, Tonks, who had previously been following a fly's progress around the room, took up,

"So you can see why Dumbledore would be worried, Harry. There was a second murder that took place last night at 1:30 am, a few streets away from you. Fortunately, we have some wizards monitoring these happenings, and Dumbledore was alerted immediately. He relayed the message to the Weasleys and sent Severus Snape to get you. We have been planning to get you for a while, but certainly not under such urgent circumstances."

Tonks smiled widely. "It's great to see you again, Harry. You've grown over the summer."

Lupin seemed slightly preoccupied and in a less conversational mood. "Harry, Dumbledore felt that it was important that you be made aware of these facts so that you can appreciate how precarious the situation is and how careful you have to be."

At this point, Lupin stood up and gave Harry a small smile. "I have missed you, Harry. I do hope you are okay. I'm so sorry about Si– " he began, but Harry didn't think he could bare to hear Sirius' name mentioned so he stood up quickly and interrupted him, his voice slightly elevated in volume, "Thank you so much for coming to tell me this, but I'm afraid that if I don't go eat soon, Ron will have eaten the lot."

Lupin seemed to take the hint, his mouth becoming drawn once more. Tonks waved before they both disapparated. Harry turned around and trudged back to the kitchen. For him the day had just begun, and he was already exhausted.

After lunch, which turned out to be comprised of sandwiches, egg salad coincidentally among them,Harry got dressed and signaled to Hermione and Ron that they needed to talk. Tiptoeing past the twin's room, they heard yelling. From what they understood, Fred and George had just tested one of their new inventions – _Banshee Tea_ – out on Ginny, to her detriment. Covering their ears, Harry and Hermione followed Ron outside. As the three walked around the Weasleys' garden, Harry told them in whispered words why he had been taken from Privet Drive in the middle of the night.

Both fell silent when he finished, and Harry suddenly felt extremely guilty. A sickening thought had just crossed his mind. _What if Voldemort killed those people so that he could get to me? _Hermione seemed to sense this guilt and hugged him, whispering, "It's not your fault, Harry" into his ear. Ron, who had found a sudden interest in his shoelaces, announced quite loudly, "Maybe we should go back inside now – the others might wonder where we've gotten to."

The solemnity of that first morning at the Burrow seemed to lessen as Harry's time with the Weasleys elapsed. Harry didn't bring up the subject of the summer's procedings or Voldemeort again and neither Hermione nor Ron, who Harry supposed was put under strict oath by Hermione, mentioned it. Harry occupied himself with Fred and George's stories about their fledgling business, which already seemed to be flourishing, and with Quidditch. Fred and George's new merchandise, which they eagerly tested out on various unwitting family members, helped to keep the days interesting and Harry's thoughts off of Voldemort's activities. With Mr. Weasley's sudden transformation into a giant turkey at the breakfast table, having unwittingly sipped from one of the Twins' _Gobble Goblets_, and wands everywhere bursting into feather (trick wands were still one of the Twin's favorites), the sinister events that might be occurring elsewhere seemed so distant to Harry.

In fact, it seemed to Harry as though he had just arrived at the Burrow when Mrs. Weasly announced that their Hogwarts letters had arrived during an afternoon game of exploding snap. The days until their trip to Diagon Alley and their return to school passed by rather unremarkably except for one conversation Harry accidentally overheard. On the morning that the Weasleys were planning to go to Diagon Alley, Harry woke up early. Thinking that no one else was awake, Harry dressed quickly and tiptoed quietly down the hall from Ron's room.

He was about to descend the creaking staircase when he heard voices coming from Ginny and Hermione's room. Normally, Harry would have taken no notice of this had it not been for the fact that one of the voices was that of a boy. Yes, Harry was now certain that, in the quiet of the early morning, he could clearly hear a male voice in the girl's room. _Perhaps Fred or George tried to wake Ginny and Hermione up with their Alarm Clock Wallop_, he thought. Harry only heard snatches of the conversation… "…y will be mad…" "…I know that it will be diff…" "n, don't say th…" Although Harry didn't consider accidental conversation interception eavesdropping, he didn't want anyone to think he was spying on them. Suddenly, one of the muffled voices grew in volume, signaling that the owner of the voice was nearing the door. Harry dashed for Ron's room, not caring how much noise he was making. As he entered, he collapsed onto the lower bunk, his pulse racing. But it wasn't the sudden sprint down the hall that shocked Harry's pulse into beating twice it's usual pace– it was the fact that Ron's orange sheeted bunk was entirely devoid of an equally orange-haired person.

It was completely empty.


	4. A Scuffle and Strange Sensations

Disclaimer: Umm... I think Christopher Columbus came up with the original idea for Harry Potter- after all he is accredited with almost EVERYTHING!

I would like to thank everyone who reviewed:

Dovoo: Sorry you didn't like my story; feel free to make some suggestions as to how to make it less "awful" as you put it. Mamandalikesswords: I'm glad you liked it. Those paragraphs are a bit scary but this is my first fanfic ever and I had no idea how to format the first chapter. Will be changed. Pronto! I hope they didn't scare you away. Kitschymitch and Maddyladdy: Thanks! I hope you like the next chapters too. Highlow: As to your questions…You'll just have to wait and see!

Please Keep on Reviewing!

Special Thanks to a certain beta who shall remain unnamed for dealing with all of my ridiculously convoluted words such as "convoluted" and icky comma usage.

Goodie2Shoe

Harry pulled off his shoes and jumped otherwise fully clothed into his bed. He jerked the covers over his head and had just begun to regulate his breathing when the door opened and Ron tiptoed in. With his back turned to the door, Harry's eyes fluttered open. For some reason, Harry's eyebrows were knit into a deep scowl. He wasn't sure why he was so incensed by Ron's early morning visit to Hermione.

_They are allowed to talk without me – even if it is in the early morning when no one else is awake…They don't have to bother waking me up when they want to have a private…_Well, Harry wasn't exactly sure what it was. _Although it would be nice, considering that I tell them everything! _

Harry added, _well almost everything, _in all fairness. Harry was annoyed at his pragmatism. He was annoyed with Ron for sneaking out to see Hermione without him and…

Harry lay in bed, his anger simmering down and his curiosity slowly percolating. Now hewas wondering what his two best friends needed to discuss that he wasn't allowed to hear. Somehow, despite his anger and budding curiosity, Harry managed to fall asleep, only to be shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley an hour or so later.

Not bothering to check if Ron was awake, Harry jumped down from his bed and slipped his sneakers back on. Ron, unperceptive of Harry's coolness towards him, smiled cheerily,

"Good Morning, mate! Can't believe we're going back already!"

Harry opened his mouth quickly ready to shock Ron with some questions about his disappearance that morning, but thought better of it. He decided to not let on what he had heard that morning or that he knew Ron had snuck out of their room to see Hermione.

Everyone in the Burrow woke up yawn-faced and trudged downstairs in varying states of dress, Fred and George having only enough energy to pull on their socks and a sweater over their pajamas. Even Hermione's hairappeared a little more unruly than usual, and it seemed to Harry that Pig's feathers were sticking up in different direction, indicating that they had not been cleaned and groomed properly by their owner.

Somehow, Mrs. Weasley managed to herd everyone out of the house, including a fully clothed Fred and George whom she coaxed outside with the threat of force-feeding them some of their own merchandise.

Fred and George claimed that they had to pick up some "supplies" in Diagon Alley, but Ron whispered to Harry that they were really coming along to make sure that nothing went wrong.

"What are they going to do – make sure that no Death Eaters lunge out at me from behind the bookshelves at Flourish and Blotts?" Harry asked Ron, completely forgetting to be angry with him.

Actually, on the other side of breakfast, Mrs. Weasley's delicious waffles and French toast, Harry had to admit that perhaps the events of that morning weren't so bad as he had initially thought.

_Maybe Ron went to the bathroom or something and stopped by to say good morning to Ginny and Hermione._

Truthfully, Harry wouldn't put it past Ron to go ask Hermione some small last minute homework question the day before returning to Hogwarts, such as "Hermione, it's just that…my homework…Could you do it for me?"

One sooty fire place ride later, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys found themselves in the middle of Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley immediately took off in search of some household cleaning potions mumbling something about maundering mildew that had gotten out of hand.

By midday, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred and George had already bought the majority of their school supplies at Flourish and Blotts (no Death Eaters to be seen) and had bought Ginny a second-hand robe at Madam Malkin's.

Ginny met a friend of hers on their way to buy supplies for Potions, and they left together, giggling as they walked in the other direction, presumably to meet up with some fourth year boys. Ron followed the two girls with a worried stare as they walked down the street, his gaze only broken when Hermione gave a fell tug on his robes, half dragging him into a store.

Hermione had anxiously reminded Harry and Ron all morning that they needed new ingredients for Potions.

"Honestly, Ron, if you don't buy more newts' eyes or powdered dragon scale, then you are not going to be able to do any of the assigned work. And you are not going to borrow from me again! Last time you returned an empty jar of asphodel to me _and_ you mixed up the labels of my chopped salamander skins and powdered billywig eggs! You know I like to alphabetize! And that goes for you too, Harry."

Harry and Ron exchanged a guilty look, remembering the expression of disbelief on Hermione's face when Ron had told her they had just placed the jars of borrowed ingredients in her potions set wherever they fit.

At this point, sensing that Harry was in no immediate danger after all, the twins disappeared down the street, mumbling something about "new clientele" in a direction that looked conspicuously as though it led straight to Knockturn Alley.

As they exited the small potions shop – Ron and Harry laden with heavy jars wrapped in brown paper and Hermione carrying one small vial with a look of approval on her face – a familiar blonde head appeared in the crowd.

Before Hermione had the chance to steer them in the opposite direction, a cool voice yelled out,

"Well, if it isn't Weaselby, Potty, and Granger! Say, where'd you get the money for all that, Weasley? It's your lucky day! I just found a knut in the street. You can have it- hold on…"

Draco pulled a small copper coin out of his robes and extended it to a red-faced Ron, who looked prepared to drop his precious purchases at any moment and give Draco some what for.

Hermione and Harry, having become aware of this, had already grabbed his arms.

"What's this? Apparently, Weasley has neither money nor manners," Draco added, thrusting the knut into Ron's chest.

"Don't you know that when a _benefactor_ gives you _charity,_ you ought to take it? Or has that patchwork quilt clad mother of yours taught you noth…."

Ron didn't give Draco a chance to finish his sentence,

"Why, come here, Malfoy and I'll take your knut – I'll take your knut and shove right up your self-righteous–"

"Ron!" Hermione interjected, cutting him off with redoubled efforts to restrain him. Harry was only hanging on to his arm half-heartedly now, and he privately felt that if they didn't get away from Draco soon, Hermione would have to hold him back as well.

Then, suddenly, Harry felt the strangest sensation, he no longer heard the insults Ron and Draco exchanged, he felt an emotion surging through him, beginning at the pit of his stomach. Hot, and burning, it coiled through his body as though he had just swallowed boiling water. Suddenly, he hated Ron, hated him right down to his last freckle. He wanted to…he wanted to hit him, punch that stupid Weasley, right in the center of his second hand robes.

Harry shook his head, his glasses sliding down his nose and his grip on Ron's arm slackening. Two voices in Harry's mind were arguing. He was in the center of a tumultuous clash of emotion. He hated Draco, he hated Ron, he hated Draco…he hated…he hated…

Harry didn't remember falling down. When he looked up she saw Hermione's and Ron's worried faces floating above him. Ron had a bloody lip and a scrape on his cheek while Hermione's cheeks were furiously red.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, I think…What happened?" Harry heard himself croak.

His throat was dry and he felt beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

"You sort of collapsed, Harry, it must have been the heat and Draco…" Ron drifted off.

Harry stood up quickly, all of the blood rushed from his head, he was burning now, looking around, hoping that there was no one around who saw him fall.

"Where is Draco?" he asked

"Well, when you let go of Ron's arm…" Hermione trailed off.

This explained Ron's torn robes and his bloody lip, which he was now wiping with one of his sleeves. "Sorry, Hermione, I couldn't help it. When he said that about my mum…" Ron too trailed off.

Ron exchanged another guilty smile with Harry, who now smiled too, thinking that Draco was off somewhere in a far worse condition than Ron.

"Really, Ron, you have to learn how to ignore Malfoy." Hermione repeated, although not with her usual fervor. In fact, Harry could have sworn he saw a small smile sneak onto her lips.

"Hey, Ron, Harry, we've got to show you something." The three spun around to see Fred and George running up to them.

"It's the latest model," George added, "extremely sleek and light, with a compass and a scratch-proof charm – hey, what happened to your face?" Fred continued, now spotting for the first Ron's injuries.

Ron muttered, "Malfoy" and the twins nodded knowingly.

"George, I told you we shouldn't have gone to check out that shop…" Fred said, before receiving a sharp elbow in the ribs from George, as they helped carry some of Ron's and Harry's brown paper packages, one of which was leaking a foul smelling substance.

"Reparo" George said, tapping the jar with the tip of his wand. The leak sealed instantly but the smell lingered.

"Well, let's go get lunch," Hermione said, changing the subject, and the group headed down the streetdodging between a fat witch in purple robes and a goblin carrying a brown satchel, giving them a look indicating that he was of a foul disposition.

Harry walked on pretending that it had been the heat and the anger Draco inspired that had caused him to fain---pass out. He would rather have Ron and Hermione think it was heat stroke than…whatever it had been.

What was bothering Harry now was that there was still a shadow of that strange feeling in him, he felt a wave of hatred for Ron pass over him, only less intense than before. Harry didn't have much time to ponder what had just occurred because he caught Hermione appraising him worriedly and decided that he would have to think about it later.

Right now the only sensation Harry could think about was what was leading them to one of the small restaurants on a side street off of Diagon Alley—hunger.

To Harry, the rest of the day was a blur. One minute the Weasleys, Hermione, and he were traveling through Diagon Alley and the next they were returning for the night to The Leaky Cauldron, all of them carrying large packages wrapped in brown paper and twine.

The next moment they were at the barrier to platform 9 ¾, and a kiss and a tight hug from Mrs. Weasley and a clap on the shoulder from Mr. Weasley later, the red Hogwarts Express was somewhere deep in the English countryside.

Harry was almost surprised to find himself sitting in one of the familiar compartments of the train, waiting for Ron and Hermione to return from their prefect's compartment.

They joined Harry and Neville in one of the thestral drawn carriages to the castle. After the Sorting ceremony and a fantastic feast, Harry and Ron mounted the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory, the events of the past few days swimming noisily around in Harry's mind.

He remembered seeing Draco Malfoy's customary sneer as they entered the Great Hall and was glad to see he now sported a black eye from his scuffle with Ron the previous day. He waved at Hagrid, sitting at the staff table. He had steak and kidney pie for dinner, and then headed to the dormitory with the rest of the Griffyndors. The banister beneath his hand was freshly polished and their trunks had already been brought up. Harry heard Ron saying a yawned "goodnight," and he fell asleep the moment his untidy, ebony locks hit the pillow.


	5. The Bed Hangings That Never Stay Closed

Disclaimer: EVERYTHING IS MINE… except the original idea, the characters, the past plots, and the copywrited material etc…you know, basically… everything else…

Okay, so finally a more interesting chapter, for anyone who reads this. This story has gotten 150 hits and only seven reviews---C'mon…the review situation is reaching crisis levels for me! Please review…I'll… I'll give you a piece of cake!

Goodie2Shoe

Harry was in the Department of Mysteries in the room with the veil placed in its center. It was where he had last seen Sirius. Now the room was empty except for the echoing murmurs that Harry had heard the night Sirius died.

Suddenly, there was a gust of wind that seemed to originate from within the room itself, blowing the curtain more open, its frayed edge waving eerily in the nonexistent breeze. The whispers intensified, growing louder. Harry thought he heard his name among the whispered words.

He stepped forward, inching closer to the curtain. Another gust of wind blew the curtain towards Harry. Now the frayed edges were inches from his hands. Harry hesitated, the same faded fabric Sirius had disappeared behind, now snapped at his fingers. He could almost feel the thin gauzy fabric…

Harry stepped forward once more…

Harry's eyes fluttered open. He was surprised to see the burgundy bed curtains drawn closed around his bed. He had been dreaming. He heard the door of the boy's dormitory open. Maybe it was Seamus or Dean going to the bathroom. There was the soft shuffle of slippered feet on the floor. Funnily enough, Harry couldn't remember Seamus, Dean, Ron, or even Neville ever wearing their bed slippers.

(In fact, Harry distinctly remembered one of Neville's slippers was lodged behind the radiator in their dormitory ever since third year while the other currently served as a sleeping pouch for his beloved pet toad Trevor.)

The slippered footsteps approached his bed and stopped short. Harry's breathing intensified slightly, he was still half asleep, yet he couldn't help wondering who was on the other side of those curtains. Whoever it was, they seemed to be conflicted as to whether or not they should move forward or retreat.

Harry lay there, for what felt like several minutes, watching the curtains puff in and out ever so slightly from the force of the person's breath. Whoever it was seemed to be standing extremely close to Harry's bed while they decided what to do next.

Apparently the person decided to continue forward, for, several seconds later, a hand abruptly drew his bed curtains aside, throwing a sharp triangle of light onto his face. Through the light of the lantern before him, Harry saw the illuminated form of Hermione Granger's face.

Standing in her dressing gown and slippers Hermione smiled rather shyly at Harry, her brown eyes were transformed into two scintillating crescent moons by the uncharacteristic smile she wore. Her hair was tossed over her shoulder and looked slightly tousled by sleep. It took him a few moments before he realized that he was staring at Hermione with open-mouthed surprise.

"Er...wass' amatter 'Mione?" Harry mumbled thickly.

Hermione continued to smile, "I really needed to talk to you for a little while."

Then, seeing the somewhat incredulous look on Harry's face, she continued,

"It's really important, it couldn't wait until morning."

Harry made room for Hermione to sit on the edge of his bed and she sat down next to his left leg.

"Well… what I wanted to talk to you about was…the important thing is….you see I just couldn't sleep well without…" Hermione stammered.

"I'm so glad we could have this nice chat," Harry said, trying to prompt Hermione into speaking her mind so that he could return to that dream he had just been having. It had something to do with the curtain in the Department of Mysteries…

"Yes, of course, naturally…" Hermione whispered, rather distractedly,

"Okay, I'm just going to say it! The truth is that we have been such good friends for so long and recently…well… so…I haven't been able to stop thinking about y-----------------achhhhhhhhhh…."

Hermione had started up suddenly as though she had just steeled herself for the task when Harry clamped a hand over her mouth, hissing,

"I heard someone behind you. Did anyone see you come up here?"

Hermione shook her head violently to indicate that she was sure that no one knew and added a rather muffled response, each word being pronounced directly into Harry's palm. There had definitely been a noise downstairs in the common room.

Hermione released her mouth from Harry's silencing grip, quickly blew out the candle, and, before Harry could open his mouth in protest, jumped into bed beside him, drawing the bed curtains shut almost all the way. Now there was only a small slit of light coming from the dying embers in the fireplace that illuminated the inside of Harry's bed and its two occupants.

In her rush Hermione had practically landed on top of Harry and he now moved over to give her some room. When she turned to him a strand of hair caught on her lip and her eyes were now much darker than before, slanted in worry, but scintillating with that glow of excitement Harry had come to know.

Now the common room was quiet again, maybe whoever it was had gone to bed already. However, Hermione remained in her current position, just in case.

"What were you saying, Hermione?" Harry asked, his eyes focusing once more on the stray hair still clinging to Hermione's upper lip.

But perhaps finishing her sentence was of little importance after all. From what Harry had heard, or inferred, maybe he knew what she was trying to say. Perhaps he had known all along, since the moment the curtains of his four poster bed were drawn back to reveal Hermione's smiling face and unusually bright eyes…

It was hot with the bed curtains drawn and the bed harboring one more occupant than usual. Hermione blew the stray strand of hair from her face and turned to Harry, looking somewhat flustered.

He knew he had to say something, he was sure that the silence was torturing Hermione, but the words didn't come. He parted his lips slightly, perhaps with the shallow hope that the right words would float out of his mouth out of their volition. But there was still the same hot silence.

Suddenly Hermione seemed so close, so much closer than ever before, and while Harry's parted lips had proved to be a poor invitation for words, they seemed to attract Hermione's own which now grazed them softly.

There may have been another noise, the sound of a book closing downstairs, the owner of the book sliding it into his schoolbag and blowing out the candles, there may have been the creaking of the stairs and the sound of footsteps approaching the dormitory in which the sixth year Gryffindor boys had resided since their very first night at Hogwarts, but these things went unnoticed by the inhabitants of the bed.

To each, there was only the other, there was only the moment when Hermione's face came so close to Harry's face that her light brown eyelashes brushed his cheek….

Harry only looked up when his bed curtains were torn apart unexpectedly for the second time that night. Hermione spun around; her hands clasped over the mouth that, seconds ago, had been so close to Harry's. Harry heard the gasp that parted her lips before he looked up to see his own figure glaring angrily down at them.

A/N: Erm...I hope you like it. Let me know. (cue to review now)

Will bite nails furiously until you do.


	6. The Proverbial Morning After

Disclaimer: Characters- Not Mine

Story That No One Reviews- Mine

Finally, the _very _long awaited chapter of everyone's favorite story. Over three hundred hits and a single digit number of reviews. Ha-ha. No matter, this is fun. Don't let my bitter jokes fool you; I really do enjoy writing this story!

Goodie2Shoe

* * *

Harry sat straight up in bed and automatically reached for his glasses that rested on his bedside table. Bespectacled, Harry took stock of his bed and, to his relief, found no brown curls peeking from under the covers nor any extra limbs entangled in his own; he was completely alone. Harry had the urge to laugh aloud; it had all been a dream.

He shook his head as though doing so would remove the thoughts contained within it. That dream about Hermione, Harry didn't even know that he…_do I?_ Harry thought suddenly.

This dream and the emotions it had suggested that he had, well, quite honestly, Harry was surprised by them. Hermione had always been a great friend to Harry, but, contrary to the rumors created by the joint efforts of Draco Malfoy and several articles published by the hated Rita Skeeter, she was nothing more. _Or so I had thought,_ Harry thought as he rubbed the side of his head.

And what about the other dream, there had been another before he had ended up in his bed with Hermione, sitting so close together when he, Harry, walked into the room. It had been about the curtain in the Department of Mysteries but Harry couldn't remember much else, except the allure of the muslin-like fabric and its proximity to his outstretched fingers. Harry couldn't focus on that dream. His mind kept flitting back to the feel of Hermione's lips against his and the shock of seeing himself enter a room he was currently inhabiting.

_Since when do you see yourself while you are yourself in your own dream?_ Harry shook his head, causing his glasses to land askew on the bridge of his nose but otherwise failing to dispel the memory of last night's dream from his head.

It was indeed strange. Harry had had a similar sensation once before when he and Hermione had traveled back three hours in time using Hermione's time turner. It was utterly bizarre, Harry recalled, that they had followed and watched themselves the entire evening. But this was different. As far as he could tell it was not possible to go back in time in your dream.

Temporarily dispelling thoughts of his dream from his head, Harry stretched and stood up, drawing his bed curtains aside. He smiled thinking that in his dream they had certainly been put to good use. _There I go again with that dream._ Harry thought, frustrated.

Ron, too, pulled his burgundy bed curtains open as usual and then suddenly blanched as though frightened of Harry. "Sorry mate, did I scare you?" Harry teased, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "Yeah, yeah, uh-huh…" Ron muttered absentmindedly, but Harry was cheered by the fact that the color had begun to return to Ron's face as he, too, got up and headed towards the boy's bathrooms.

At breakfast they were joined by Hermione. Since it was their first day of classes schedules were being passed out and Hermione fidgeted with her usual mixture of anticipation and anxiety, tapping her foot while Professor McGonagall made her rounds about the Gryffindor table.

When Hermione had acquired her new schedule, the result of somewhat grabbing it out of Professor McGonagall's outstretched hand, receiving a scowl in return, she sat down quietly, studying it carefully. Harry thought that she might even begin stroking it lovingly. It was no secret that Hermione loved school and organization and her schedule happened to combine these very two things.

"I honestly had trouble sleeping last night because I couldn't wait until we got our schedules", she said. Harry glanced away at this point, feeling embarrassed and somewhat guilty about the dream he had had last night. In his dream Hermione had said that she couldn't sleep either, but that time she had been thinking about him, this Hermione had been worried about her schedule.

"Look Ron, look," she continued, nudging a somewhat flustered looking Ron with her elbow, "We have Potions with the Slytherins again this year but now we have Herbology with them too. That will be dreadful."

"The good news is that if Malfoy starts strutting around as usual, a ball of dragon dung can accidentally find its way to the back of his head." Harry pointed out, with a mischievous grin on his face, not unlike that of the Weasley twins, when they had just fed some unwitting person one of their skiving snack boxes or canary creams.

The upbraiding tone of the "Harry!" and the glare from Hermione that this comment provoked were completely undermined by the grin that played across her lips. _The lips I kissed last night_?Harry thought once more.

"Hey, I wonder how the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be", Ron began thoughtfully.

"Each year we somehow manage to scare them away." Harry added.

"Yeah, with accidental memory loss, long term imprisonment, or abduction by centaurs they somehow never want to stay", Ron continued jokingly as the Gryffindors all got up and headed to their first class of the day.

The main hall was teeming with students all milling around before the beginning of class. Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined a group of Gryffindors waiting to go to Transfiguration, their first class of the day.

"I wonder if we are finally going to try something more challenging than small animals, like rats and mice." Lavender Brown asked of Parvati Patil, who added, "I certainly hope so. They are disgusting."

"Speaking of disgusting rodents…" Ron muttered under his breath as they saw Draco Malfoy make his way through the crowded hall, with Crabbe and Goyle clearing a path for him, going so far as to lift scared first years clear off the ground, their legs dangling helplessly in the air.

Harry could see Ron's fists clenched out of the corner of his eye and Hermione's jaw was firmly set as though in preparation of an attack. Draco pushed his way through the crowd and appeared in front of the trio with his usual smirk.

"So Potter, you have another fainting spell? Don't think I didn't see you, mumbling to yourself like some kind of freak!"

"I'm surprised you could see anything at all Malfoy with my fist in your eye!" Ron retorted angrily.

Behind him, Harry heard Dean and Seamus snicker and thought that he might have heard Hermione sniff approvingly.

"I wasn't talking to you Weasley. You and that _mudblood_," Malfoy continued nodding his chin at Hermione, "aren't much use to Potter in a fight "

Dean and Seamus stopped laughing; Harry suspected that they, just as everyone else standing around them had no idea what Malfoy was referring to.

Malfoy had lowered his voice dangerously so that only Harry, Ron, and Hermione could hear what he was saying.

"Yeah, I heard from some of my father's _friends_ that you two both went down really easy. Yeah, you too Granger, and you're supposed to be smart. Hey Potter, couldn't help your girlfriend? But I guess _you_ were too busy trying to save Black; he was supposed to be like a father to you wasn't he?"

Draco laughed coolly and Harry was vaguely aware that he was clutching his wand in the pocket of his robes.

"Yeah, I know all about him, always trying to be the hero, sort of like you actually." Draco trailed off, "Well, glad Aunt Bella got the _honor_ of ki--"

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled out his wand and aimed it right at Draco's chest, cursing him with the first hex that came to mind. As he opened his mouth, however, he didn't just hear his voice; he heard three voices in unison.

A moment later Draco lay on the ground, unrecognizable, and Harry turned to see _both_ Ron and Hermione with their wands out looking around with a mixture of guilt and glee on their faces.

The small circle that had formed around them while Malfoy had been speaking disappeared into the classroom and students walked through the hallway, only somewhat mindful of Malfoy's body which lay sprawled on the ground, as though walking over unconscious prefects was common practice.

Harry didn't even have time to admire the handiwork of the jumbled mix of spells that they had cast on Malfoy when Professor McGonagall came up to them, her black robes sweeping behind her and her sternest look adorning her face.

"Potter!" She cried.

Harry realized he should not have lost his temper. But he couldn't help it, the way Malfoy had spoken about Sirius, it was just too much to handle. Professor McGonagall should have realized that they had been provoked.

"You are to report to the headmaster's office immediately!"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione gloomily.

"No dilly-dallying. Professor Dumbledore has requested a special meeting with you."

Harry was stunned. Professor McGonagall had just passed over Draco's body as though it was an old rolled up carpet.

She was halfway in the door of their transfiguration classroom when she doubled-back..

"Oh, and you two," she added, indicating Ron and Hermione, as though the thought was just occurring to her at that very moment,

"Would you please take Mr. Malfoy up to the infirmary as it seems he has had a bit of an accident."

Harry couldn't believe his ears.

Professor McGonagall turned around and headed off with no other indication of what she had overheard Malfoy say or what of she had just done, or rather, not done.

Ron and Hermione stood by Malfoy's body wearing an expression of shock similar to the one Harry assumed he was wearing right now.

Harry turned and chanced a small questioning smile as he began to walk in the direction of Dumbledore's office while Hermione levitated Malfoy's body off the ground and began to direct him up the marble stairs behind him.

It was only when Harry had reached the stone gargoyle that served as the entrance to Dumbledore's office that he realized he hadn't the faintest idea why he was there.


End file.
